When You Were Here
temple.
I take the rock and the pen from the bag. On the rock I write a name: Sarah St. James .
I hand it to Holland. She writes two dates. Then she reaches inside her black bag and takes out a tiny piece of Sarah’s baby blanket. It had been inside the manila envelope with the photos. I place the rock on the ground—a marker, a makeshift gravestone next to these other gravestones. Holland tucks the piece of the blanket underneath the rock.
Together we sprinkle lilac seeds around the rock. They won’t grow; I know that. They won’t rise up and turn into a lilac bush in a few years. For a lilac bush to grow, you have to plant it, water it, and all that stuff. But that’s not what this is about.
I hold Holland’s hand. She squeezes mine back. “I smell lilacs everywhere. And I don’t mean from the seeds.”
“I know,” I say. “I smell them too.”
“This is going to sound weird, but lilacs don’t have a different season here in Japan?”
I shake my head. “Nope. But sometimes they’re just everywhere. And that’s just the way it goes.”
As we walk away the scent of lilacs lingers in the air.
We’re back at my apartment, and as I hold the door for her, I feel like I’ve had too much caffeine, or like it’s my birthdayand all I want to do is open my presents. The door clinks shut, and seconds later we’ve made it to my bedroom, and I am laying her down on my white futon. I tell myself to slow down, to not rip off her clothes, to take my time because we have time. Besides, she looks so gorgeous here on my bed, and I want to drink her in.
“Can I take off your clothes?”
“Please take off my clothes,” she says.
So I do, taking off her bracelets, her T-shirt, her shorts, and everything else. Her clothes are scattered across my futon, marking my bed. I always want her clothes on my bed. Always.
I stop to look at her. She is naked, and it’s the most beautiful sight. I run a hand along the back of her leg, thrilled to touch her again, to be able to. Her body moves against my palm, and she gasps, a soft, lingering sigh. It’s all so achingly familiar and so incredibly new at the same time.
“Can I kiss you?”
“Please kiss me, Danny.”
I start at her ankle, and she shivers under my touch. I look up at her, and she looks down at me, and we lock eyes for a moment. Then she whispers, Don’t stop , and I reacquaint myself with her knees and her thighs, her belly and her hips, and everything in between. She says my name over and over, and it’s almost too much. But I am up to the task.
Then her cheeks are flushed, and she has this happy, woozy look on her face.
“Hi,” she whispers.
“Hi.”
“I missed that too.”
“Happy to make up for all the lost time.”
Before we go any further, I ask: “So should we double up or something this time? You know, just to be safe.”
“I’m on the Pill again,” she says, and I raise an eyebrow. “Not for that . The doctors put me on it afterward. To get everything back to normal. Ugh.” She covers her eyes with her hands.
“Hey,” I say, and gently take her hands off her eyes. “It’s okay.”
“I know. I just don’t want you to think I’m on it for other reasons. I haven’t been with anyone since you.”
I grin in response, then kiss her eyelids. “Good.”
“But yes, we should use a condom too.”
I give her a goofy thumbs-up. “Double the protection, double the fun.”
It’s still amazing, or maybe it’s even better because here we are again, and we can’t seem to stop returning to each other. I don’t want to stop, not with her, not ever. When it’s over and we’re lying next to each other, I’m not relaxed, though, because I half-expect her to leave, to dart out and never come back.
“Holland, please don’t leave me again,” I say.
“I won’t run away again.” Then softly, shyly, “I’m yours, Danny.”
She reaches for my hand, clasps it in hers.
“Then promise me,” I say. “Promise me if somethinghappens, like Sarah, that you’ll tell me. That you’ll give me the chance to figure things out with you. You don’t have to be alone.”
“I know that now. I do. And I won’t leave you alone when things are hard for you, like I did before. I promise.”
I want to bookmark this moment, capture it for the rest of my life. I know there are no guarantees, not in life, not in love. But I’ll take what I can get; I’ll take what I can give . Another chance.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
On
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